I am currently writing another book about the early 1970s in Northern Ireland. I questioned myself about whether this was really worth doing when the whole context in which we live when the book was conceived has been overwhelmed by the pandemic and the 'new normal'.
I also, like most people, feel the stress and disorientation of lockdown and this sometimes makes it harder to get to work.
Two lessons have emerged from this.
One is that the effort to work is hugely rewarding in that it reduces the stress produced by isolation. Like going out for a run, for some people, the temptation is not to go, but the high afterwards makes it worthwhile.
The other lesson is that my imagination as coloured by the new circumstances also feeds into my reflections on the period I am writing about. It is not so much that I have had my attention turned away from the subject as that I have been given a new standpoint from which to examine it. Does that make sense?
Stay well everybody.